


coordination

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Self Confidence, Tim is Best Boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “Try it on.”“What?”“You should try it on. See how you like it. Actually…” Tim went back to the rack, looking. “I wonder what size I am.”— or Tim and Jon buy matching skirts.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 152





	coordination

**Author's Note:**

> an indirect sequel to [liberation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667038)! you don't have to read it, but i am quite fond of it myself, just saying lmao

Jon had been taken in by something in the store across the way. So maybe Jon didn’t get overly excited about, well, _anything_ in particular, didn’t express his enthusiasm in the way that Tim did himself, but there were things. Just subtle little things that betrayed him, and his interest, and maybe his back was to him as Tim left the bathroom, drying his hands on his trousers, but it was just the way he held himself. Focused, unwavering, sort of? Interested, which was the closest thing Jon got to ‘excited,’ especially since he hadn’t really been thrilled to come to the mall in the first place.

But color Tim curious. He wandered up behind Jon, ducking a bit to his level to try and follow his gaze to whatever it was he was looking at. Oh– maybe skirts? God, he hoped it was the skirts display. Jon was still all _nervous_ about that, the off-chance he did wear something loose and flowy around Tim. And _of course_ Tim didn’t have a problem with it, he had more of a problem with Jon thinking it was _wrong_ to, but it was hard to fight internalized disgust. He was just glad Jon was _somewhat_ okay wearing them around him now. But he really, _really_ hoped Jon was looking so intently at the skirts now, because he deserved to look at things that made him happy, and if there was a skirt he liked, then dammit, he should buy it.

“Let me guess,” he said, stopping behind him. And he only felt a _little_ bit bad when Jon jumped, turning to look a little guilty. “It’s the long brown one, isn’t it?”

“I–” Yeah, that had to be it. The way he got a _look_ proved it. Intrigued but embarrassed, and now a little bit cross. “Tim,” he complained.

“It’d look nice on you.” He didn’t have any doubt on that. All the skirts he’d seen Jon in were always neutrals or earth tones. Slate gray, forest green, hazel brown. They went well with Jon’s skin tone. This one would be no exception, a long, coffee brown one that fell just above the ankle. It looked lightweight, comfortable. Really cozy, actually.

“I–” Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again. Awkward, embarrassed. Maybe a little pleased, in his backwards way. “I was just looking.”

“Yeah.” No big deal. “Let’s go look!”

“What– _Tim!”_ Jon hissed, as Tim took up the initiative and started for the storefront. There really was no use just looking from afar. “You can’t just–” Jon spluttered, and gestured, even if he did fall into step next to Tim probably more out of reflex to keep up than anything else.

“Why not?”

“Because–”

“It’s a store,” Tim said, squinting at the display in the window. The skirts were hanging nearby the front as well, good. He made a beeline for them. “And I have money. What’s your size?”

Jon lingered at the front of the store like he wasn’t _allowed_ or something, which was stupid, because it wasn’t even a quote-unquote ‘lady’s’ store, anyway. Tim didn’t push further. If Jon wanted to come in, he’d come in, and if not, well… it’d been worth a shot. He couldn’t _make_ him. And he wanted him to be _comfortable,_ not the opposite, sooo.

“Oh, they’re lightweight,” he did say out loud, rifling through the sizes. “Soft.” A nice casual skirt. Okay, maybe he didn’t know much about women’s fashion except for, like, it being pretty and sometimes a general pain in the arse, but he could definitely appreciate it. “Stretchy, a bit. Must have some spandex?” He hummed, and fumbled with the tag.

It was wearing Jon down, though. Not in a bad way, just Tim could _see_ the intrigue ramping higher and higher until Jon finally stopped fidgeting, and came to join him in pawing through the racks.

He did have the decency to turn away to smile, but did ask, “see? They’re _nice.”_

“Yes,” Jon agreed stiffly, winding around him to keep looking through the rack. Well, hook line and sinker, more or less! It wasn’t like anyone was even paying them any attention, anyway.

Jon’s hand hesitated over one hanger, just for a second. Barely noticeable, but, hey, Tim was paying attention now. “Oooh, your size? They have it in your size?”

“I– um. Yes. Maybe,” Jon said. _Maybe,_ like he didn’t know what his own size was. Or maybe it was just _maybe_ because women’s clothes were weird to fit? Sasha always complained about finding a good pair of jeans and she and Jon were roughly the same height– hm.

“Try it on.”

Oh, now he looked flabbergasted. _“What?”_

“You should try it on. See how you like it. Actually…” Tim went back to the rack, looking. “I wonder what size I am.”

“What?” Jon repeated. His face was going proper red now. “Tim–”

“I’m curious,” he interrupted. “I’m not doing it to pressure you. Or talk you into it or anything.” Mostly, on that one. “Look, it’s pretty, _you_ like it, _I_ like it, and it’s soft. I’m curious what it feels like.” He plucked one from the rack, holding it up to himself to try and gauge his body into women’s measurements. “It’s not like I can just try one of yours. And we’re already here. So! This looks right. Maybe. I’m gonna try it on.”

“Tim…” Jon started, again, and Tim smiled faintly, a little apologetically. Yeah, he knew he was overwhelming him a bit. No, he wouldn’t _push_ him, but… sometimes Jon just needed a little nudge. Just sometimes. And maybe he _had_ decided to make for the fitting room to help Jon get a little more at ease with the idea, but he was _serious,_ too; he was curious, now.

“Look, Jon,” he said, “if you don’t want to, that’s a-okay. I _swear._ Your boundaries.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But I actually want to. You always look _comfy._ And this looks comfy. And, in a very _not_ condescending way, IIII want to know how it feels for you. So I’m gonna try it on,” he repeated. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’d look smashing in it, too. Just saying.”

For what it was _worth,_ Jon was sort of looking at him like he’d grown horns or something. Not just declared his intentions to try on a _skirt,_ but. Insecurities and all. But then Jon just _sighed,_ sagging there next to the rack with his hand still on the hanger of the skirt in his size. “Christ,” he muttered, and Tim tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“How can you _do_ that?” Jon muttered.

“Do what?”

“You know what.” Tim waited for him to elaborate, even though he knew; which he did, when he realized Tim wasn’t going to _answer._ “Pretending it doesn’t matter. How can you– not _care–”_

“I do care,” Tim said. Then, shrugged, continuing, “about you, and about me. Not so much about what anyone else wants, in this regard. So, I really only care about the things that matter. Fancy that.”

“It’s… not that _simple.”_

Jon struggled with the words, and yeah, okay, Tim got it. He really, _really_ did. He’d hated how much Jon had struggled with it that first time, and the second time, and the third– and, sure, it looked like it had gotten _easier_ for him, but it was still… still a lot. Tim knew. Oh hell, did he know, he’d grown up around same-sex relationships being sacrilegious and bisexuality signaling indecision, nevermind _pansexuality–_ anyway, not the same. Not about him, either.

“I know,” he sighed. “But there’s a point where you’ve either got to make yourself happy or make _them_ happy, and it’s up to you to decide which one is better. But _I_ know which is the better option,” he added, tone a little mocking. Playfully so, though. He gestured at himself, and flourished the skirt. “So I’m gonna try this on, and I can show you, _but_ you’re definitely welcome to come with me, too. If you want.”

He left Jon standing there, still flustered and uncertain. He’d talked Jon in here and he’d given him the big, grand speech, both things which were at the limit of his ability to make Jon more comfortable with being who he was, doing what he wanted. The rest was up to Jon himself, and– and he _really_ was sold on trying this thing on. He never quite was able to talk Jon into doing a _spin_ when he was wearing something like this, but now Tim was _definitely_ going to do it for himself– 

“Tim–” A rattle of metal and plastic, a rustle of fabric. He looked back in time to see Jon yank the skirt from the rack and practically speed walk towards him. “Christ. You’re _embarrassing,”_ he complained, falling in next to him again. He was holding the skirt to his chest like it was a puppy or something.

Tim did _not_ smile this time, although he definitely wanted to. “You don’t _have_ to,” he reminded, instead.

“I want to.”

He leaned in. “What’s that?”

“I– _God,_ stop it! I want to. Stop looking at me like that.” He pulled open the door to a fitting room. “Behave,” he said, firmness of his voice waylaid only by the flush on his cheeks, and then shut the door behind him.

 _Now_ he did grin. “Oh, sure!” he said, nudging into the room adjacent. “I’m not sure what kind of debauchery you think I could get into in a fitting room.”

“I’m sure you know plenty of ways to defile a fitting room,” Jon muttered. “Amongst other places.”

 _“Jonathan._ What are you implying?” he demanded, kicking his shoes off.

“That you’re too adventurous for your own good– and, please, no _more_ talking through the wall. Like suffering a conversation in the toilet stall,” Jon mumbled.

“Oh, God.” Tim laughed. “Martin does that. I mean, at the _urinal,_ even–”

_“Tim.”_

“Literally talked about a renaissance fair once. And, like, don’t get me wrong, I think I’d like a good renfaire, but not while I’m ‘draining Sir Timothy dry…’”

A thump, and Jon swore under his breath. “For _God’s_ sake.”

“Okay, okay.” Tim bit his cheek to stop from laughing again. “I’ll stop talking, sure thing, boss.” 

Besides, he had more important things to do. Like shuck off his trousers and get into this skirt. He wondered if Jon was as excited as he was. But probably moreso. He hoped moreso.

He was right, though, about the skirt. He didn’t think brown was _particularly_ his color– he’d leave earth tones to Jon– but the fabric was definitely nice and soft, a little give to it. It was light and flared and honestly _felt_ a lot more than he expected. Like, it was a skirt, but where it _did_ brush against his legs? It was foreign, and _good,_ not like harsh denim or even the drag of sweatpants against his skin. It was actually _nice._ Not that he’d thought it would be not nice, just– damn, was it comfy.

Jon was quiet from the other side of the wall. No rustle of fabric even though Tim knew he had to have finished changing, too. “Jon? All dressed?”

“Er… yes.”

“Get the right size?”

“Yes,” Jon said. That sounded a little more certain. “As much as I can.”

Tim glanced up at the gap between the rooms, the space where the cubicles didn’t reach the ceiling. Bad idea, but, hey, he was full of those; he climbed up on the seat, and only had to stretch to tiptoes to be able to look over and peep down on Jon. Easy.

And Jon looked… _nice,_ dammit. He really did. Staring into the mirror, doing the thing that was not-quite-posing but probably as good as Jonathan Sims got to it. Inspecting, but in a good way. The skirt fell right to his feet, maybe even a little long without his shoes, but that was a small thing. It framed his waist _lovely,_ sweater hiked up around his torso to show it off in the mirror. Jon took a small step back and the fabric swung gently around his ankles, not _quite_ a twirl, which Tim still had to do yet–

“You look great,” he said, honestly.

Jon jumped, hands dropping where he’d bundled his sweater up. Looked around quickly and then _up,_ eyes wide at Tim, and then– yep, pinched. There was that look again! Tim kind of loved it. “Tim! Get _down.”_

“There’s no one else here.”

“Even– even still.”

“Can I come over and show you mine?”

“I– yes,” Jon said, sounding exasperated. He took another step back. Another _swish_ of fabric. This one was _really_ good for that. “Just get down.”

“Unlock your door!” he said, and then did jump lightly off the seat _just_ to feel the puff of air that came with it, and how it displaced and let the fabric settle around his legs again. Oh, he really liked this. He should have done this sooner, with Jon. “I’m coming over.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

He stepped out into the space outside the fitting room, doing a little flourish as Jon cracked the door. And the spin really _was_ as _fantastic_ as he thought it’d be, a tiny little rush and then something he could only place as _glee._ He felt light as a feather like this, furthered by the look of surprise that crossed Jon’s face, and then by the fact that he didn’t immediately scuttle back into the fitting room. 

Instead, he just… stood there a moment, taking in Tim. Like he was shocked he’d actually done it, or– or not quite that. The surprise was gentle and warm, eyes lingering on the skirt. And then– best of all– Jon _smiled._

Well, it was more of a _smirk,_ an almost _laugh,_ and _yeah,_ Tim knew what he was looking at: his exposed calves, the fabric not long enough for his height, but he couldn’t be _bothered_ when Jon was looking like that. But he could play along. “I _know._ It’s too short, but that’s not the _point.”_

“You need to look in the tall section.”

“Sure, in a sec.” He stepped forward, taking Jon’s hand to pull him back into the fitting room. He wasn’t letting the good mood be ruined by someone walking in on them. Jon would _wilt,_ and Tim didn’t want that for anything. He closed the door, and smoothed his hands down his hips. “But I _like_ it. It’s nice and flowy blowy and _comfy._ I mean,” he turned again, _definitely_ showing off, “it’s a bit _odd_ to have so much airflow up around my balls, but that’s an interesting sensation, too–”

“You weren’t weari– you don’t walk around like _that,”_ Jon interrupted. “Christ, Tim, what if someone _sees?”_

“Well, I mean, it might be short, but it still definitely goes past my knees, so…”

“Oh my God,” Jon said– breathed, more like– and then a laugh under his breath. “This is… I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I just talked, _you_ decided you wanted the skirt.” Tim reached out, resting his hand at Jon’s hip. “You want the skirt?”

“I…” Jon was back to biting his lip, all apprehensive again. But only for a second. “Yes,” he said softly, like he wasn’t supposed to, and was, anyway. “But, er, I usually just do thrift stores, I haven’t even seen the price–”

Tim snatched the tag before Jon could fumble it into hand, yanking it straight from the skirt. “Uh uh, nope! ‘s on me!” So he didn’t know the price, either, but he’d shopped here before, it wouldn’t break the bank.

“Tim–”

“My treat. _Really,”_ he said seriously. “Let me.” What was it with his friends not wanting to let him _buy_ them things? Martin was the same damn way, all flustered up and argumentative when Tim offered to buy something. At least Sasha was alright. _‘If you want to buy me that, who am I to stop you?’_ It was that easy! So Tim just beamed at Jon as he stared up at him, then took a step towards the door. “Gonna change back,” he announced. “But I do like this, so I’m gonna go check for length after, hopefully get it to, you know, _actually_ fall where it should. Meet you at the front after?”

“I… you’re really not going to let me buy it myself, are you?”

“Nope!”

 _“Fine.”_ Jon huffed. “I’ll wait up front.”

“Thank you.” Tim gave Jon a kiss, then, pecking his lips quickly against his tousled hair before heading back to change. “Be there in a few,” he called through the door, slipping his fingers beneath the elastic in the waist to shuck the skirt down. The pass of fabric against his legs again, cool and freeing, and Tim found himself grinning at his own half-naked reflection. He could get used to that. He could actually _really_ get used to that.

Maybe help Jon get confident along the way with it, too! Who knew! 

A quick browse through the skirts for taller folks found one that _looked_ right in both length and waist. He wouldn’t try it on again, but a quick bit of tailoring wouldn’t be too hard, anyway. It looked promising, so he took the risk. He doubted he’d be wearing it anywhere but home. Not that _he’d_ mind overmuch, but he had a weird feeling like it would have been stealing Jon’s thing and then being too open with it? But definitely at home, for now.

Purchases made, he joined back up with Jon at the front of the store. _“Al_ right. Should we stop by Ryman before we head back? You said something about the, uh, dunno. Post-it flags or something?”

“… yes. Um.” Jon dragged his eyes away from the bag hanging at Tim’s wrist. “And then electronics, still?”

“Yeahhh, probably so. Not that I really _want_ a new case, but this one’s seen better days. And, you know, kinda need it for my phone.”

“Right.” And then he just looked _back_ at their stuff, like… Tim didn’t know. Like it was going to bite them or something. “Er… thank you,” he continued, quietly. “For the… for that. I– ahem–” He cleared his throat. “I’m sure I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“No worries. Just gotta promise me you’ll wear it.”

“I… yes, I will.” Jon looked back ahead. “Did you end up– end up buying the second?”

“Yeah!” Tim said. “I think the sizing might still be off? But, I mean, I’m _tall.”_ He shrugged, and then did a double take realizing Jon was side-eyeing him again. “What? Did you think I was _lying_ when I said I liked it?”

“No, I…” Jon trailed off, and sighed. _“Maybe?_ You’d do it to make me feel better. Not,” he added, “that I need to be made to feel better.”

“I would,” Tim agreed, because it was true and they both knew it. “But I wasn’t lying. I like it a lot more than I expected, honestly. So I definitely wanted it. For you _and_ me.”

“Right,” Jon repeated, and just sounded a touch awkward. A _little_ awkward. A little embarrassed. “I… I wouldn’t mind seeing it on you, again, then… sometime.”

 _“Absolutely.”_ A promise he was excited to keep. 

Jon rolled his eyes at, probably, his enthusiasm, but that little _pleased_ look was still there. Jon was happy, no matter how much grumbling he might do. Tim could see that much. He was glad.

“C’mon.” He nudged Jon’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said, and beamed when Jon playfully shoved back.

**Author's Note:**

> tim's been introduced to a whole new world here. and honestly? seeing how tim looks in these types of things? giving jon a HELL of a confidence boost, honestly!! together, they can pull anything off, ESPECIALLY skirts!! 😁🎉


End file.
